


You've Got Me Feeling (And It's Driving Me Wild)

by ProneToRelapse



Series: Feelings (Alpha Remix) [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha Connor, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Animal Traits, Basically Connor gets so turned on he can only growl and Hank is HERE FOR IT, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, M/M, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Orgasms, Omega Hank, Oral Sex, Rutting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 07:47:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15626094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProneToRelapse/pseuds/ProneToRelapse
Summary: Connor has a habit of bringing Hank's heats on early. Not that either of them mind. Especially not this time.





	You've Got Me Feeling (And It's Driving Me Wild)

**Author's Note:**

> turnabout is fair play and all that. I wrote this as soon as I woke up because Connor growling is like 100 of my kinks.

When Connor wakes up, it’s with a pounding headache that throbs down his neck, sending dull waves of pain thudding through his bones with every beat of his heart. He groans, low and long, and stuffs his head underneath the cool side of his pillow, desperately trying to block out the light streaming in through the crack in the curtains. The warm weight at his back shifts and grumbles at being disturbed but  _god_ , Connor can’t do much else except lie there and suffer. 

“Con?” Hank’s voice is low and rough with sleep and the sound of it thunders through Connor’s skull like a drill. “Jesus, you’re burning up, are you alright?”

“Fever,” Connor mumbles into his pillow. “Headache. No talking.”

“Christ, I’ll get you some aspirin. You sound like shit. You stay home today, alright? I’ll text Jeffery.” The bed dips under the shift of his weight. 

“Wanna die.”

“Asprin’s gonna have to be the less dramatic alternative, I’m afraid.”

Connor whines and clutches the pillow tighter to his face. He feels exhausted, right down to his bones. Which makes no sense because he was perfectly fine last night. Not even a sniffle or a tickle in his throat. He’d felt completely well. Now it feels like he has the plague and won’t survive the morning. 

Hank is back in time to shut Connor’s alarm off before the damn thing can rip the alpha’s head in half, and he makes Connor down an entire glass of water with dispersive aspirin in it before laying a cold flannel over his forehead. It feels wrong to be cared for like this, but Connor ignores that stupid instinct in favour of soaking up the attention and Hank’s soft fingers in his hair. 

“Get some rest,” Hank says, voice pitched considerately low. “If you feel any worse, call me.”

“Love you,” Connor mumbles, nuzzling into Hank’s hand. Having his omega leave while he’s prone and unable to protect is a wrenching feeling in his gut, but Connor doesn’t really have much choice. Besides, if any omega in the world can deck an alpha with their right hook, it’s Hank. 

“Love you, too,” Hank says, dropping a gentle kiss to Connor’s forehead before leaving him in peace while he bustles around in his morning routine. He’s a lot quieter than usual and Connor is able to slip back into an exhausted slumber once the aspirin takes the edge off of his headache. 

Connor doesn’t know what time or even what day it is when he wakes again, only that the lingering scent of his omega on the sheets is driving him  _wild_ and he’s shamelessly rocking his hips down against the mattress for friction, skin drenched with sweat and clothes sticking uncomfortably to his skin. 

Half-delirious with want and arousal, Connor stuffs a hand down the front of his pants, rocking his hips to push his cock through the tight loop of his fingers, thumb pressing hard into his slit. He moans into the pillows, catching the corner of one between his teeth as he humps forward into his hand, achingly hard and aching for release. 

Release that will not come. 

He moans and growls, working his hand almost frantically over the heated flesh of his dick. He props himself up with one shoulder, tugging and rolling his balls with his other hand, but no matter that he tries he can’t tip over the crest of his orgasm, just teeters uselessly on the edge of pleasure, jerking his dick until it  _hurts._

He rolls onto his back with a frustrated exclamation, throwing his arms wide as he pants at the ceiling. His headache has at least dulled to a manageable weight just behind his eyes, but other than that he feels like he might actually be dying. His skin prickles uncomfortably, his teeth itch and his bones ache. He’s desperate to come and no matter what he does his erection will not flag. He hauls himself out of bed, tripping as his sweaty legs catch and tangle in the sheets, storming petulantly into the bathroom. He throws the shower control onto cold and peels off his sodden clothes, crawling into the tub and letting the cold water soothe his burning skin. 

Hard on remains stubbornly immovable. 

Connor whines unhappily. He has to face the facts. 

He’s in his rut. 

Shivering, he switches off the shower and wraps a towel round his waist, dropping water everywhere as he heads back to the bedroom to sprawl across the sheets, feeling decidedly sorry for himself. The scent of Hank still clings to the sheets on his side of the bed and Connor curls into them unconsciously, rubbing his face against them like a cat. His phone buzzes on the side but it takes him a moment before he has enough presence of mind to roll over and check the message. 

**_Message_ ** **_Received 13:32_ **

_Grumpy_ ❤ _️_

_i_ _blame u 4 this_ _u better be feeling better_

_when I get home or theres gonna be_

_a problem_

**_Message Sent 13:46_ **

_Me_

_Blame me for what? And I’d advise you to possibly spend the night elsewhere, as much as it pains me to say. I’m in my rut._

**_Message Received 13:47_ **

_Grumpy_ ❤ _️_

_HALLELUJAH_

Connor doesn’t really know what to do with that, but his hands are too shaky to type much else so he drops his phone on the bed and curls up into the tightest ball imaginable, ignoring the insistent ache between his legs that’s trying to demand his attention. He can absolutely ride this out without losing control. He’s done it before, he has enough willpower to wait out the duration of it without doing anything he’ll regret. 

He’s ripped out of his half-delirious nap when the front door slams open and Hank’s voice fills the silence. 

“Alright, come get me, you dumbass. Guess whose heat came on early because of  _someone_ , goddamn it. Fowler’s pissed but there’s fuck all he can do about it.”

Hank manages to get two strides into the bedroom before Connor’s on him, all coherent though flying out the window as the scent of  _his_  omega and the intoxicating aroma of the first stirrings of heat hit Connor like a sledgehammer. Hank grunts as Connor slams him into the wall but his hands find Connor’s waist automatically and he tilts his head up in preparation for a bruising kiss that doesn’t come. 

Instead Connor rips the collar of Hank’s shirt away and sinks his teeth into the scar of the bonding mark on his neck with a feral growl. Hank shudders in his grip with a choked moan, fingers digging into Connor’s waist as he trembles under the force of it, hips canting forwards eagerly to grind against the solid press of Connor’s thigh. 

“Fuck yeah,” Hank groans, breaths catching in his throat. “Was wondering when I was gonna get this side of you.”

Connor doesn’t waste time with words. He steps back, hauling Hank with him like he weighs nothing, throwing him down on the bed and kneeling between his legs to undress him. Fabric rips and buttons fly off but Hank doesn’t seem to care. He’s watching Connor with dark eyes, pupils blown so wide there’s only a thin circle of icy blue left round the edges of his iris. He doesn’t help, he knows better than to try, just lets his alpha do his thing, lifting his hips when prompted so Connor can yank his jeans off. 

“God, you can’t even talk, can you?” Hank says. Connor growls low in response and lowers his head to bite across Hank’s chest, catching a nipple lightly between his teeth and closing his lips round it to suck and lick with the point of his tongue. Hank moans, scent clouding Connor’s already frenzied senses, fingers curling into the alpha’s hair as he arches into the heat of Connor’s mouth. 

“Shit, come on, baby, I’m aching,” Hank pants, legs falling open, cradling Connor in the warmth of his thighs. “Should’ve seen me at work, I knew right away. It was even harder to leave you this morning and then I was leaking and I—  _Fuck!”_

Hank arches, mouth falling open with the curse as Connor delves two fingers into his slick hole, thumb pressed hard against his taint as he spreads and twists his fingers, fucking him open as deep as he can with them. Hank yanks on Connor’s curls, earning a richer, deeper growl, and Connor shifts down his body to take Hank’s flushed cock into his mouth, swallowing it down eagerly. 

“Fuck, Connor, I can’t—“ Hank babbles, torn between rocking up into the heat of Connor’s mouth or grinding down against those clever fingers. He doesn’t have to make the choice. Connor swallows round him, nose pressed into the softness of greying pubic hair, fingers digging as deep as they can reach into the slick, tight heat of Hank’s ass and the omega falls apart with a shaky cry, hips twitching as Connor laps up every drop of come Hank feeds him. 

He doesn’t get much time to recover before Connor is rolling him over into his stomach, yanking his hips up to raise his ass and Hank grunts, grabbing a pillow to stuff under his chest. Connor’s hands spread him open, thumbs slipping into his hole and tugging, ripping a moan from Hank’s throat as he stretches Hank’s rim and watches his slick leak out to further wet his thighs. Connor hasn’t stopped growling, a deep, constant purr in his chest that prickles along Hank’s skin. 

“Come on, baby,” Hank pants into the pillow. “Come on, I need you. Don’t make me wait, aren’t you gonna take care of me? Fuck your omega so good?”

A broken yell tears out of Hank’s throat as Connor shoves his cock into welcoming heat, the sound punched out of his lungs as Connor’s dick splits him open, pressing everywhere all at once and driving him wild. Hank clutches at the sheets, the pillow, the headboard, hands moving desperately to find something to hold onto. Connor leans forward, chest pressed to Hank’s back, and takes hold of his wrists, pinning them to the bed and lacing their fingers together. It’s as tender as he can be when his mind is screaming at him to take, to claim, to breed, but Hank takes it like he was born for it. 

Which, he sort of was, but that’s not the point. 

Connor rolls his hips, hard and deep, forcing the breath out of Hank’s lungs and the cries from his throat as he fills him. Hank’s insides clutch at him, clenching and twitching as Connor fucks into him for all he’s worth, snarling gleefully as Hank’s rim drags along his cock with every pull out, trying desperately to pull him back inside. Hank is ruined under him, sobbing into the pillow a mess of pleas and curses and Connor’s name, begging for more, for everything that Connor can give him. 

And Connor obeys because he  _adores_  his omega. Worships the ground he walks on. Fucks his tight, wet hole like it’s his only way into heaven. 

Hank clenches down hard on Connor’s cock, choking on a moan as he shudders and spills into the sweat-slicked sheets. The air is thick with the scent of alpha and omega, heat and rut, and Connor’s mad with it. He can’t stop himself from arching forward and sinking his teeth into the back of Hank’s neck and the omega sobs out another desperate moan as Connor fucks deeper into him and wrings out another orgasm from his perfect mate before spilling into his ass with a low roar, shuddering hard as his knot catches and locks them together, wringing a helpless moan out of Hank’s hoarse throat as it fills him. 

Slowly, carefully, Connor lowers them onto their sides, rolling Hank away from the wet spot on the sheets until they’re spooned together, Hank’s ass pressed tightly to Connor’s hips while his knot is swollen and he spills intermittently into Hank’s hole. Hank whines and grinds down on it, swearing as the knot tugs at his rim, and Connor wraps a loose hand round Hank’s twitching dick, stroking it lazily, almost reverently while he licks softly over the reddened bonding mark on Hank’s neck.

“Goddamn,” Hank chokes, reaching back to stroke Connor’s thigh. “That’s… fucking hell, you’ve been holding out on me.”

Connor laughs, warm and soft. “Sorry,” he murmurs, laving his tongue over the deep marks in Hank’s skin like he’s grooming him. “I did warn you.”

“Yeah, you did, but fuck if I’m gonna miss out on that. Happens, like, once a year, right?”

“Mm.”

“Well, that’s something to look forward to, at least.”

Connor grins, mouth pressed to Hank’s shoulder, and gives a sharp twitch of his hips. Hank keens and grips Connor’s thigh tighter, choking on a gasp. 

“Oh, fuck you,” he stutters, cheeks red. 

“It’s not over yet, Hank,” Connor purrs. “A rut usually lasts three to five days for alphas. Possibly longer if they’re in particularly good shape.”

“Oh my god,” Hank moans. “Okay, fuck, at least let me get some snacks if you’re not gonna let me leave the bed for the next week.”

“What kind of alpha do you take me for? As if I wouldn’t provide for you even in my rut. Honestly, Hank, you wound me.”

“Yeah, you know, it’s really hard to listen to you when your dick is practically in my stomach—  _Oh, fuck!”_

Connor growls happily and stills his hips, rubbing his thumb firmly into the slit of Hank’s cock. “You were saying, my love?”

“God, fuck me up, I love you.”


End file.
